


The Spiderwebs Are for Ambiance

by thirteenblackbirds



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), The Great Fodlan Bakeoff, hilda has to do everything herself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24638398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirteenblackbirds/pseuds/thirteenblackbirds
Summary: Hilda and Claude talk about the war while traipsing through some forgotten von Riegan castle tunnels.Or, why Claude now owes Hilda a lifetime of new clothes.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	The Spiderwebs Are for Ambiance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Great Fodlan Bakeoff, with the themes _exploration_ , _secret_ , _ambition_ and _devotion_ , with a bonus theme of _gossip_. For some reason, this combination of words screamed Claude and Hilda wandering through some tunnels together, having a semi-heart to heart, while getting buried in spiderwebs. Written quickly, forgive any typos (but if you point them out, I'll fix 'em)!

“ _How_ did I get dragged into this? There are spider webs _everywhere_ , Claude, you owe me a new blouse.” Hilda does her best to duck most of said-spiderwebs, but they really are everywhere, long silken threads, so light and gossamer-thin, yet filling every nook and cranny and spanning whole hallways, claiming this underground labyrinth as their domain. And the light (or lack thereof) in the tunnels, cold and damp and musty from disuse, makes it hard to see many of them until one is walking, face first, into the wispy, sticky nets, sputtering to keep them out of one’s mouth. Luckily, Hilda is walking behind Claude so most of the sputtering comes from him.

Then there is the matter of whatever is underfoot, Hilda thinks with great dismay, as she feels herself stepping on something soft and far too squishy with a wet _squelch_ that she tries very very hard not to dwell on too much. “ _And_ boots. Claude! Are you listening!”

“I hear ya, Hils,” come Claude’s reply, cheerful as always. “A new blouse and new boots. As soon as the war ends, I’ll make sure to commission the very best for you from Derdriu’s most fashionable tailor and cobbler.”

That is really the bare minimum he could do for her, really, after somehow conning her into this … “Where are we anyway? And why are we here? You know Lorenz is going to be pissed if you miss the war council this afternoon.”

“I wouldn’t miss the war council for the world,” Claude says, tipping his head to look back at her, his grin visible in the flickering light of his lit torch. “This is one of the old tunnels that run under Derdriu and _we_ are scouting it out for a possible escape route. Since Derdriu is basically three cities built with almost zero planning on top of each other, and don't even get me started on how many different ways this castle has been done and redone, there are no surviving plans that say where this tunnel goes. But wouldn’t it be useful as a getaway plan or a way to relocate troops without the enemy seeing?”

It would be useful, especially given the current state of the war and what they know about Edelgard’s troops. Which is not much, even Hilda knows that, try as she might to avoid knowing anything of significance lest she be expected to take on any responsibilities. She is not naïve, or uncaring, enough to truly believe that she can sit the war, but she does not want to be put in charge of leading troops or organizing battle plans, thank you very much. Those are things her brother and other people – reliable, capable people – do. 

Still, she can see the utility of a secret warren of tunnels through which they could move troops away from prying eyes. Especially if there are multiple points of entry and some of those points could help them get forces behind any attacking battalions….

She is so lost in thought momentarily that she fails to notice Claude has stopped moving and, consequently, almost mashes her nose into his back.

“Hey, why’d you stop? I’d really like to keep moving so we can find where this leads and then get out. My hair is starting to curl in this damp.”

“It looks like we’ve reached a fork.” Blinking, Hilda looks around him and see that he is right: the tunnel splits into three paths, the dim torchlight illuminating the slimy-looking green moss that tenaciously cling to the stone walls and to life despite the lack of any discernible light source. _Note to self: do_ not _touch the walls. And definitely do not slip and fall._

“So, what d’you say, Hilda? Should we split up?”

It’s a joke, but Hilda shudders nonetheless. “ _Hard no_. I am not going down any of these alone. It’s bad enough you convinced me to come with you at all.”

Claude laughs. “Fair enough. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to explore alone anyway. So, pick a direction.”

None of them look particularly inviting, so Hilda points at the leftmost branch, which looks like it might have slightly fewer spider webs stretched across it. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“So,” she says as they forge forward, “do you really think Edelgard is the enemy?”

That gets a curious tilt of Claude’s head as he attempts to look back at her while still keeping an eye on wherever their little adventure is going. “Isn’t she? She attacked Garreg Mach and has declared war on the Church. She’s poised to attack Alliance territory any day now.” He sounds curious rather than bitter.

Everything he’s said is true. “I know, but.” Hilda bites her lip, gripping her axe tighter. The silence stretches, broken only by their footsteps. Finally, in a quieter, almost subdued voice, Hilda continues, “It’s just hard to think of Lysithea as the enemy.” 

She’d never know Edelgard or her sinister-looking shadow that well (and personally, Hilda always thought Hubert would be effective if he was less of caricature) but Lysithea… Hilda had liked her and even thought of herself as something of an older sister to their youngest Deer. Even after she’d decided to switch Houses, they still hung out and talked about harmless girly things like hair care, cute dresses, and jewelry. Hilda had prided herself in being able to get Lysithea to relax and think about something other than schoolwork and magical theory all the time. So, yes, she does have a hard time imagining herself standing on the battlefield opposite the younger girl. “I wonder if she still has the perfume I gave her,” she murmurs, mostly to herself.

The quality of Claude’s silence has also shifted now, with the mention of their former House mate. Absently, Hilda notes that the tunnel is getting slightly wider, the stones more uniform and even, likely signaling a newer section. They had started in one of the northwest storage cellars and if her mental map is right (which it is) they should be nearly out of the main castle by now and heading in the direction of the southern gate. 

“Edelgard has a compelling story,” he says at last. “Don’t tell me Lysithea doesn’t remind you even a little of Her Imperial Majesty?” 

“Lysithea is much cuter than Edelgard.”

Claude laughs out loud, the sound echoing down the darkness. The reverberations tell Hilda that they might be close to the end of the line. “Edelgard is many things, but I doubt anyone would say cute is on that list. Maybe once upon a time?”

“It’s hard to imagine it,” Hilda says, trying but failing. Even before the revelations in the Holy Mausoleum, she had found it hard to chat casually with the leader of Black Eagle House, who always seemed far too intense and single-minded to mesh well with Hilda's brand of chill. 

“Just because it’s hard to imagine doesn’t mean it can’t be true.” Now Claude sounds like he might be talking about something else.

“I’m sure she was cute as a baby. Everyone is, right?” Hilda allows, the hand not holding her axe cupping her cheek in thought. “Still, I just don’t understand why Lysithea would follow her into this war.”

“I’m sure she has her own reasons.”

“Edelgard declared war against the Church! Against the goddess!”

“I never pegged you for a Church devotee, Hils – ah, what do we have here?” Claude lifts his torch higher to reveal a metal door overhead. There are the half-rotted remains of a wooden ladder on the wall. “Wood was a clearly a terrible idea but we have an exit. I wonder how much further this goes…”

“Probably not far. No more than ten paces, based on the echo earlier.”

She misses the half-impressed, half-bemused look Claude gives her as she peers up at the hatch. “Are we going up here?”

“Might as well. Let’s see where this is and then we’ll also know roughly where the tunnel ends if we measure ten paces from here in that direction.” She does not question his immediate acceptance of the accuracy of her estimate. 

“Southeast,” she murmurs automatically, still squinting upwards.

“Right, southeast. Here, I’ll give you a boost. Do you think you can get it open?”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t know, but I want to get out of here so let’s try it.” She scrabbles onto his back and smacks him at his exaggerated grunt as he lifts her up. “Rude.”

“Ow, Hils. That’s going to leave a bruise. How many times have I told you you don’t know your own strength?”

“Hush,” she says, fingers feeling for a latch. “Hold the torch a bit higher.” He complies and she see the lock. “Uh, it’s locked from the other side.”

Setting her back down, Claude scratches his beard. “Hm, well I guess we’ll need to keep going and then measure backwards.”

“Great, more spiderwebs. You walk in front, there’s no way I’m leading.”

“Yes, yes.” 

They continue in silence for another beat before Hilda picks up the threads of their earlier conversation. “I’m not extremely devout or anything - I mean, yeah, I believe in the Goddess but I also believe she just wants us to be happy and chill and wouldn't be super annoyed if we forgot the words to some of the hymns - but I’m also not just willing to commit blasphemy on Edelgard’s say-so, Emperor or no.”

“Well, if even half the things she says are right, the Church and Rhea have a lot to answer for.”

She does not miss the way he says the Archbishop’s name without any title or honorifics and sighs. “Why am I not surprised you would say that?”

“Isn’t it true, though?”

“If what she says are true, would you have done what she did?”

“No,” is Claude’s immediate answer. “I don’t have the stomach to start wars.”

“Not for anything?” This is territory they haven’t ventured into before in all their conversations and they have had many, both before and especially after the abrupt ending to their schooldays.

Ahead of them, the faint smudged outlines of a set of stone stairs is beginning to take shape. Claude could very well take the opportunity to forgo answering the question, both asked and implied. But he surprises Hilda by stopping and half-turning toward her.

“Is there something I’d start a war over? I’d like to think not. But I have goals, dreams, even ambitions, if you can believe it.” His smile is self-deprecating, but Hilda can definitely believe it, having seen glimpses of a Claude beneath his glib, cheery, easy-going veneer on multiple occasions. “Why? Does that disturb you?”

Hilda suppresses a shiver. It’s not cold enough in the tunnels for her to blame it on the chill. _Does_ that disturb her? Is there a day she might find herself fighting Claude and an army of his own? She can no more imagine it than she can imagine … well, fighting Lysithea and that is a reality that may very well lie in her near future. Hilda is no fool, though she is happy for others to think she might be one. If that day ever comes, she does not know how she would meet it.

Still… no point in worrying about it now, right? Hilda is not in the habit of doing work before she absolutely must. So she turns her nose deliberately and says, “As if! It disturbs me that we’re still in this tunnel, breathing in Goddess only knows what kind of musty, stale air and getting it all over my clothes and hair. That door better not be locked!”

He laughs, accepting her steering of the conversation away from darker potential futures easily. Trying the handle, he gives a triumphant “ah-hah!” when it turns and the door clicks open behind a heavy rug penned in by what seem like several large stacked boxes. 

“ _Finally_ ,” Hilda declares, pushing past him, and the obstacles, and into what looks like a decently-sized storage room, lined with shelves of… “Oh, it’s a wine cellar.” She consults her mental map quickly. “Oh, I bet this is the cellar of that storage shack by the southern gate. You know, the one just a bit to the right and past the guards tower?”

“We’ll find out soon. Let’s get out and check.” He snuffs out the torch and closes the door behind him, taking care to rearrange the rug and boxes.

“What, _no_ , we can’t go out together!”

“Why not?”

“ _Claude_ , we cannot just emerge together from some random shack. People will _talk_.”

“… Hilda, we’re covered in spiderwebs and dust and moss stains. The only thing people will talk about is how badly we need a shower.”

And that’s the wrong thing to say because Hilda positively shrieks as she sees, in brighter light now, just how grimy her hair and clothes are. Claude scrambles to hush her, clamping the hand not still holding a lit torch over her mouth, but it is too late as the storage room cracks open and a curious redhead peeks in.

“What are you – Oh, Duke von Riegan. And Lady Goneril!” She blushes, apparently not noticing that their state of dishevelment leaned decidedly more raggedy -sewer-wanderers than illicit love affair.

“ _See?_ ” Hilda hisses as Claude gives their onlooker his most charming smile.

“Sorry, just inspecting the wine. Everything looks great, we’ll be leaving now, come on, Hilda.” As he talks, he grabs Hilda’s arm and tug both of them toward the door.

“O-of course, my lord, did you want a particular bottle for dinner tonight?” She still sounds a bit dazed.

“I’ll leave it to your exceptional judgement, Elena.”

“Elena?” Hilda whispers just as the maid breaks into a wide smile.

“Y-yes, my lord!”

“What, you think I don’t remember the names of everyone who helps to keep my castle running? Hilda, you wound me,” Claude whispers back, waving merrily at Elena.

*

Later, as a cruel and undeserved punishment for Hilda’s amazing act of solidarity in following him into the disgusting tunnels (using some excuse of her ‘incredible mental map’ and ‘photographic memory’), Claude assigns her the task of preparing a map of all the underground tunnels throughout the von Riegan grounds. The _nerve_. And she can’t even accept anyone’s help with the job because apparently _no one_ can properly remember or describe what the tunnels look like or their route because ‘Hilda, it’s underground and I had no idea where I was’.

Honestly, Hilda has to do _everything_ herself, including going through all the dank, musty tunnels _by herself_. 

Claude owes her _so many_ new clothes.


End file.
